


Maybe Once, Maybe Twice

by tminuseternity



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Babies, Fluff, M/M, Physical Disability, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tminuseternity/pseuds/tminuseternity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad does things backwards. Ray's okay with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elliott

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Fleetwood Mac's Gypsy, which I am listening to on repeat. 
> 
> Based solely on the characters from the miniseries. No copyright infringement intended.

**_11:47 pm_ **

 

_Late reply, sorry. Good song choices, and thanks for refraining from country this time. I know it’s a particular challenge for your whiskey tango ass, so I appreciate the effort._

 

_Your family is fucking insane, Ray. I’m sure I’ve said this before, but I’d like to take the opportunity to emphasize that point._

 

_I’ve invested in a DSLR. I thought it would be prudent. See attached picture._

 

_Both Rudy and the LT are going to be in Cali this August. We’re planning on a barbecue at mine on Saturday the 17th. Feel free to join us, though I have a feeling you’ll be on your way here once you see the picture._

 

_Click on the fucking picture, Ray._

 

_Brad_

 

Ray sees the email at work and smiles behind his fist. The monthly song list he sends Brad started around a year ago, when Ray mentioned in an email a song he’d been listening to non stop. Brad had put a song in his response, and it grew into a carefully thought out playlist on his part. Occasionally sneaking some country into the list had been a test to see if Brad actually bothers to listen to them all. And just to fuck with him, of course. Ray had been pleased to no end to discover that Brad takes the lists seriously.

 

Luckily, he doesn’t have anything planned for the August weekend Brad mentioned. It’ll be good to see Rudy and the LT again after so long. He’s kept up with them through emails and calls, but it’s been a year or two since he’s seen either of them.

 

Ray’s mouth twists in confusion at the last line. Brad has only sent one picture before, a shitty cell pic of the puppy he adopted. It had turned Ray’s day around. Maybe it’s another puppy picture? Maybe it’s a new dog. Ray downloads the picture _Welcome.jpg_ —which gives him fuck all in the way of hints—and opens it, and his jaw drops.

 

He’s got the phone in his hand before he can form a full thought, dialing Brad’s work number without pause. Brad being at work has never stopped him in the past.

 

“Ventura Surf Shop.”

 

“Can I talk to Brad? It’s an emergency.”

 

“Oh, hi Ray. Hold on.” Yeah, they know him there. He’s pretty sure they’ve stopped believing him when he says it’s an emergency, but they still let Brad take his calls.

 

After a few moments of J-Lo’s latest hit, the line clicks and he’s off hold. “Ra—”

 

“Is that _yours_!?” he says before Brad can even finish his name. “Brad, you can’t just drop a bomb like this on me, what the—”

 

“I take it you saw the email?” Brad sounds like he’s smiling, but Ray is too shell-shocked to fully appreciate a happy Brad.

 

On the screen in front of him is a picture of Brad. Well, his head’s cut off at the top because the focus is not Brad, but the _baby_ in Brad’s lap. The baby’s grinning up at Brad, eyes squinting into crescent moons. Brad’s bionic hand holds the baby securely in place while he takes the picture with his right hand.

 

“No shit. Jesus Christ. Is it a boy or a girl? I can’t tell.” Ray wants to reach through the screen and squish those cheeks.

 

“His name is Elliott. He’s adopted, born April fourteenth.”

 

Ray almost drops the receiver. “Two months ago? He was born over two months ago and you’re telling me now?”

 

“Ray,” his boss says, standing behind him.

 

Ray’s heart stops, frozen with impending doom. He twists his head to look up, and her flawless brow raises.

 

“Please keep your voice down.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” he says, sighing when she leaves, her heels thumping on the carpet of the office. To Brad, he says, “See? Look what you’ve done.”

 

“You got you in trouble, Ray. Not me.”

 

Asshole.

 

Brad’s tone gets softer, somehow. “You’re the first person I’ve told. Besides the birth mother, the nanny, Maria, and a few nurses and doctors, you’re the only person that knows he exists.”

 

“Have you… you haven’t told your parents?” That’s the most surprising thing by far. After Brad moved back to California, he started talking to his parents and seeing them in person much more regularly. It’s hard to imagine him keeping _a baby_ secret from them for two months.

 

“No. Not yet. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It was your idea, Ray. Remember? Hey, look I have to go, I’ll call you back after work.”

 

Ray can’t do much more than say, “Okay,” and replace the receiver in its cradle. He slumps back into his chair, his mind still reeling from this development.

 

Brad has a baby. A son. He’s a dad now. And Ray couldn’t be more proud. A few years ago, he would’ve thought it was impossible, but Brad’s improved so much since the Christmas they don’t talk about.

 

Ray’s become Brad’s confidant in a lot of things since then, but he has trouble processing that of all his friends and family, Brad wanted him to know about the baby first. During their skype call that evening, Brad goes one step further and says he wants Ray to meet Elliott in person first.

 

“Is this weekend okay?”

 

Brad nods, shifting the baby higher in his arms. The little tike’s asleep against Brad’s shoulder and it makes for an irresistible picture. For the second time today, Ray wants to meld through the technology between them and come out on the other side.

 

“Yeah.” He sounds odd through the speakers of Ray’s monster laptop. “That was the plan when I sent you the picture. And it’s Father’s day this Sunday, so I was thinking I’d invite my parents out for lunch somewhere in Bakersfield. Would you be alright with that?”

 

“Only if you’re paying,” Ray says, just to see Brad’s reaction and—yup, there it is, the most minute eye roll humanly possible. Ray translates it to be Brad’s version of a teenage girl’s _ugh fine_. It’s a reaction he gets a lot from Brad. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Shoot.” Brad rubs his real thumb over Elliott’s shoulder, his metal hand holding the baby up from the bum. Ray’s already exhausted every possible missing hand joke, most of them _Star Wars_ related. Now he just sticks to referring to Brad as his favourite cyborg.

 

Ray takes a deep breath, feeling the need to steady himself. His question wanders into risky territory since it could lead to talking about _that_ Christmas. “Did you not think of adopting before I suggested it?”  It’s been on Ray’s mind since his earlier phone conversation with Brad. He’d be surprised if the thought hadn’t crossed Brad’s mind once.

 

_It was your idea, Ray._

 

Brad shrugs, a one shouldered movement so he doesn’t disturb Elliott. “I did. But when you said it… it was real. I don’t know why. Maybe it was that someone else thought I could, that helped—” and the way he says it makes Ray’s heart squeeze almost painfully. Brad’s come a long way from discouraging young marines from procreation so Ray understands what he’s saying: that anyone else would have raised an eyebrow if Brad said he wanted to adopt. Ray can think of maybe one person who would have accepted Brad’s desire without any initial hesitance, that person being the LT. Poke would’ve been a close second, but Ray can picture even him being skeptical at first.

 

“—And I saw it as a solution. Took me a while to realize it wasn’t.” Brad’s distracted momentarily by a movement next to his chair. “Hey, girl.” Ray sees his right hand drift away from the baby’s back, going offscreen presumably to scratch at the ears of his golden lab. Brad turns back to the screen, one hand on each member of the small family he’s created for himself. “It kind of sounds like a shitty chick flick, doesn’t it? Having a family the traditional way isn’t happening so I adopt a baby. My mom’s going to be disappointed that there’s no woman in the picture.”

 

“She still nagging you to get married?”

 

“I think she’s given up at this point.”

 

Ray laughs at that. It’s probably the best course of action for her if Ray’s being honest. It’s not that Brad’s not a catch, but his views on marriage have taken a rollercoaster throughout the years and now seem firmly locked on _nice idea for other people, but not necessary to my happiness_. Or something like that.

 

Brad tilts his face towards the baby napping on his shoulder. “But we’re doing just fine on our own, aren’t we buddy?” he says to Elliott, just low enough that Ray can barely make out the words. He presses his lips to the baby’s head in a noiseless kiss, and Ray feels blessed, like he’s been selected to preview a hypothetical second season of _Firefly_. No, not even that can compare.  

 

His apartment buzzer sounds and Ray remembers after a moment that he ordered pizza. “Hold on, I think the pizza guy’s here.” Ray returns to his seat in front of the laptop in three minutes, already stuffing a slice into his mouth.

 

“Is that pineapple?” Brad asks, no small amount of disdain audible in his tone. Ray just gives him the finger. Pineapple on pizza is fucking delicious, and Brad knows his stance on this. They’ve had this argument before.

 

“You know what would be hilarious?" he says with his mouth full. "If Elliott ends up liking Hawaiian pizza. It’d be sweet justice for all your mocking of my taste in pizza toppings.”

 

“I’d have to return him if it came to that.”

 

“It’d be too late, homes. No returns after thirty days. Hell, it's too late already.”

 

“But there’s a limited lifetime warranty,” Brad says innocently, and Ray just shakes his head.

 

“Shut up, you love him.” It’s clear as day when he looks at Elliott.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Their skype call comes to an end not long after that when Ray drops pineapple on his computer and Elliott makes a mess of his diaper, still fast asleep. They discuss weekend plans for a few minutes before signing off. Ray devours three more slices before putting the rest in the fridge. He goes to sleep that night feeling more content than he has all month.

 

***

 

On Thursday after work, Ray stops by OshKosh B’gosh, which is, in his humble opinion, the king of stupid store names. He walks into the place feeling ridiculous but he does find a dinosaur t-shirt for Elliott so it’s not a complete waste of time. He goes to Marshall’s next, determined to spend more money. He’s going to spoil Elliott, and Brad will no doubt bitch, but Ray doesn’t give a fuck.

 

In the baby toy section he picks up three plush toys: a brontosaurus, Chewbacca and R2D2. He can’t wait to see the look on Brad’s face when he gets them. Brad’s secretly the biggest nerd so he’ll probably love them more than the baby will.

 

He stops at a few more places before finally heading home. The leftover pizza is reheating in the microwave when the buzzer sounds. The items he ordered from Amazon after his phone call with Brad on Monday have finally arrived. He spends the evening wrapping gifts and packing for the weekend.

 

On Friday morning he stuffs everything into his car so he can leave straight from work. It’s almost a seven hour drive to Ventura but it’s not the longest he’s driven for Brad, not by far. Even on that awful Christmas—when he drove eleven hours just to make sure Brad was alright, downing Red Bull like water and staving off panic the entire time—not even that was the longest, but it took a toll on Ray like nothing he did in the Marine Corps ever had.

 

He gets to Brad’s place just before midnight. He’s sore, ready to drop, and needs to piss, but every thought flies out of his head when Brad opens the door and pulls Ray into a hug.

 

“I just put Elliott back to sleep so be quiet.” Brad looks exhausted enough for the both of them.

 

“I gotta hit the head before I fucking explode,” Ray whispers, much to Brad’s amusement, and shoves his keys at Brad. “Grab my bag, it’s in the back seat. And don’t peek in the presents.” He heads to the bathroom before Brad can even form an answer. When he comes back, Brad is locking the front door, Ray's duffel sitting next to his feet.

 

“Thanks, dude,” Ray says, grabbing his bag. He follows Brad up the stairs, who’s clicking off lights as he goes.

 

“Goodnight, Ray.” Brad dims the lights in the upstairs hall to nothing more than an ember glow. “If you need anything…”

 

“I'm good. I remembered my toothbrush this time. Night.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first posted fic, and I wasn't going to post until it was all complete but I decided to anyway in hopes of gaining motivation. I know where the story's going but I need a kick in the butt basically.  
> Please let me know what you think, and constructive (gentle) criticism is a-okay :)


	2. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy with the response I've gotten on this story so far! This chapter was supposed to be longer but I decided to split it up, so the next chapter should be up very soon after this one! Enjoy :)

 

“Are you cooking for me? There better be bacon in that pan or I'm going back to bed.”

 

Brad’s at the stove in loose shorts and a t-shirt and he twists his head to look over at Ray. He looks well rested. “It's turkey,” he says. He flips the eggs, slides the bacon around.

 

“That's acceptable.” Ray’s not all that picky, he just likes to complain. He’d be perfectly happy with cereal, though it’s nice to wake up to someone cooking him breakfast.

 

The kitchen resembles a government declared disaster zone, not that Ray can really talk though since his entire apartment is worse. It's not like Brad to be messy, but Ray figures having a baby would cause anyone to become disorganized. Breakfast ingredients lay out and open amongst appliances, papers and dishes. There’s an empty baby bottle toppled over next to a bottle of prescription pills, sitting on top of various books and bills. Brad’s already put pictures of Elliott up on his fridge, next to some notes for the nanny.

 

“Go say hi to Elliott.”

 

There’s all sorts of baby stuff in the spacious family room. There’s a bouncer with bright figures attached, a crate of toys, baby blankets lain over the back of the couch and a bead maze that looks secondhand in the corner. Brad’s son is in a swing next to the couch, and he watches Ray approach with wide, crystal blue eyes.

 

“Hi buddy. I'm your uncle Ray Ray. And I’ve brought you lots of toys.” He’s determined to win Elliott’s affection, whether he’ll be successful this visit remains to be seen. But if not then he’ll just have to visit more often, which he’s totally okay with.

 

Ray gives the swing a small, experimental push and for a moment Elliott looks startled, hands waving before the swing slows back to a stop.

 

“He's so cute, Brad. You know you're raising an anomaly here? I read somewhere that blue eyed gingers are the rarest genetic combination.”

 

Elliott makes a curious noise, lifting a hand towards Ray.

 

“Fascinating,” Brad says, flatter than the floor. He’s putting two full plates on the table, then forks, knives, cups. “Did you read that in Cosmo?”

 

Ray squeezes Elliott’s hand. “I’ll be back, buddy,” he says, then joins Brad at the table. “Of course not, homes, the writers at Cosmo don’t believe in science.”

 

“You would know.”

 

***

 

After breakfast Ray gives Elliott his presents, and he’s subsequently appalled when the baby only has eyes for the tissue paper. They’re sitting on the floor amongst books, plush animals and bright plastic toys, but Elliott crunches the blue tissue paper in his fists and smiles like he’s discovered the secrets of the universe.

 

“He refuses to be bought.” There’s amusement written across Brad’s face and a tinge of pride in his eyes. He’s holding Elliott in his lap and helps the baby pull the paper apart.

 

“At least someone appreciates my offerings,” Ray says, scratching at Daisy’s ears. She’s chewing on the bone toy he brought her, not about to let her think she’d been forgotten.

 

The toys weren’t a total loss though. Brad had scoffed at the _Star Wars_ plush toys but Ray can tell he secretly loves them, and they now sit next to his hip.

 

They spend the rest of the morning entertaining Elliott until his face crumples and he starts to whimper.

 

“Can you hold him while I get a bottle?”

 

Ray doesn’t think it’s possible to love the baby any more than he already does, but as soon as he takes Elliott in his arms that theory is blown out the window. Even red-faced with wet eyes, his sobbing picking up steam, Ray’s crazy about him.

 

“Hey shh,” Ray murmurs, rubbing a finger down Elliott’s nose. “Your daddy’s gonna feed you, don’t you worry.” He does his best to keep the baby from going into hysterics, but Elliott has a one track mind, and he’s only satisfied when Brad comes back with a bottle.

 

Brad sits right in front of Ray, cross-legged so they mirror each other, knees just barely touching. He presses a hand to Elliott’s belly when Ray moves to give him back. “No, keep him, just hold him higher—there, that’s fine.” Once he’s in a better position Brad gives him the bottle, tipping it up gently. Elliott brings his hands up to the bottle as he eats, his eyes trained on Brad’s face the entire time.

 

“Is he… is he gonna spit on me?” Ray asks when Brad eases the bottle from Elliott’s mouth to give him a break. Ray doesn’t think he’s ready for that.

 

A slow smile sneaks onto Brad’s face, and it’s so nice that Ray forgets to look back down to the baby in his arms. “Probably. I’ll grab a towel.”

 

Brad’s only gone for a moment, but it’s like Elliott senses Ray’s trepidation and is determined to fuck shit up before Brad comes back. He makes a burbling sort of noise and then there’s regurgitated formula all over Ray’s hand. Brad comes back and he must see the disgust on Ray’s face because he bursts out laughing, a deep rumbling that Ray can only partially appreciate.

 

“This isn’t fucking funny, Brad.”

 

“It’s just nice to see someone else suffer for a change.” Brad throws the towel over his left shoulder and takes Elliott so Ray can wash his hand.

 

In the kitchen Ray takes a moment to look at the pictures on the fridge. There’s five in total. The earliest is Elliott as a wrinkly newborn lying in a crib, then one of him swaddled of blankets. In one picture he’s curled up with Daisy in her bed, and in another he’s on Brad’s chest with his curious face close to the camera. Ray likes that one the best. The most recent is the only one with Brad, where he’s sitting on a park bench with Elliott against his chest facing the camera and Daisy next to them on the ground.

 

“Who took the picture of you guys in the park?” Ray asks when he rejoins them. He’s not sure why they’re sitting on the floor when there’s a perfectly good couch right there, but hey, whatever makes Brad happy.

 

“A mom at the park.” He’s got Elliott facing over his shoulder, coaxing tiny burps from the baby with gentle pats on the back. It strikes Ray just how _comfortable_ Brad is with his son. For a first time dad everything seems to come naturally for him. Then again, he could have been a nervous wreck the first few weeks before finally getting the hang of it.

 

Even when he was pushing away babies in Iraq and telling Trombley _never have kids_ , Ray would’ve easily believed he’d be a great dad. He looked after his team like no one else, and his team might be a two-month-old baby and a golden lab now but Ray still has no doubts in his abilities.

 

“She had one of those flimsy strollers and Daisy almost knocked it over running by. After her freak out we started talking. I figured she wasn’t going to run off with my camera so I got her to take one.”

 

“Was this random park mom hot?” Ray asks, not that Brad’s ever going to see this woman again. Not that he’s concerned with Brad getting a girlfriend. It’s just a simple question.

 

“Oh yeah. Ten out of ten. Loved the ring on her finger.” Brad looks so serious it takes Ray a moment to realize he’s fucking with him.

 

“Alright, I get it,” Ray says. Then his eyes drift back to Elliott, now with the bottle back in his mouth. “Did you take a parenting class?”

 

Brad nods. “One for dads. Read a fuck ton of books, too.”

 

“You make any friends in your class?”

 

Brad gives him a long, judgemental look, and yeah, Ray probably deserves that, but he doesn’t regret asking. “You’re starting to sound like my mother. Always interested in the size of my social circle."

 

But Ray knows that Brad knows why he’s interested. “Seriously, homes? I know things your mother doesn’t.” Specifically about Brad’s breakdown three years ago on Christmas day. He knows for a fact that Brad hasn’t told a _soul_ about what happened that day, what Ray thought happened that day. Maybe Brad will tell his parents at some point, maybe soon because of Elliott, but Ray thinks he’d probably be happy to let them live in the dark.  

 

Brad doesn’t say anything to that, but his gaze lingers on Ray, searching, thinking, before he looks down to Elliott. “Well, to answer your question: yes.”

 

That’s probably the best Ray’s gonna get so he doesn’t push. “Good.”

 

A comfortable quiet falls after that. Elliott burps a few more times, getting some spit up on the towel, before closing his eyes and resting against Brad’s chest. His hand finds the collar of Brad’s t-shirt and he makes a fist around the material, holding onto his world.

 

After lunch for the two remaining members of the family and Ray, and a diaper change for the youngest, they go out for a walk around the neighbourhood. They come back to the house for beach gear, then head out onto the sand next to Brad’s house.

 

Ray wades into the water until it’s up to his calves and wriggles his toes into the sand.

 

Coming out to Ventura is a mini vacation for him; it’s nothing but relaxing on the beach, swimming and hanging out with his favourite cyborg, now with the added bonus of Elliott. He always feels better when he’s here, and Brad always looks better every time he visits, healthier and happier, and that alone makes the trips worth it.  

 

A splash comes from his right, and Daisy’s standing in the shallow water with her rope toy between her teeth. She stares at him.

 

“You wanna play fetch? I’ll give you fetch, girl.” Ray takes the rope and chucks it as far as he can down the beach, making sure to aim it towards the sand.

 

Daisy takes off, running past Brad and Elliott sitting on the wet sand. Each wave rushes up around Brad, but they’re not far enough in for Elliott, perched in Brad’s lap, to get wet.

 

Daisy comes bounding back with the toy in her mouth and drops it on the sand and sits expectantly, so Ray throws it again. This repeats twice before Brad calls his name.

 

“Can you take Elliott for a minute?” he asks, like Ray could possibly say anything other than _yes._

 

“Yeah, dude.”

 

Brad’s removed his prosthetic, making it harder for him to lift Elliott, so Ray leans over him and plucks Elliott carefully off his legs, a hand behind his head and one at his back. He holds Elliott against his chest the way Brad does, supporting him under the bum and at the shoulders, the baby’s face turned so he can breathe.

 

Elliott doesn’t really seem bothered at being away from Brad. He hasn’t seemed bothered by much come to think of it, and Ray says as much.

 

“You should see him at bath time,” Brad says, pushing himself off the sand. “Although he’s starting to hate them less. Still despises shopping though.” Brad takes a long look at Elliott in Ray’s arms, his eyes lingering on Ray’s hand.

 

“Go swim, I got him.”

 

“I know.” Brad looks like he means it, like he has no doubts about trusting Ray with his son, and that makes a ball of warmth unfurl in Ray’s chest.

 

Brad wades into the ocean, his hands coming out to drift through the water when he gets waist deep. A few more steps and he surges forward, cutting through the surf. He turns and starts to swim parallel to the shore.

 

Water skims over Ray’s feet, drains away, rushes back, drains, rushes. He doesn’t move from his spot, and alternates from watching Brad glide through the water to watching Elliott’s ribs rise and fall with his breaths.

 

Brad doesn’t swim for long, and soon enough he’s walking out of the waves, trunks clinging to his thighs and hair dripping in a way that makes Ray think of some sort of obscene Bond girl.

 

“Time to head in?” Brad asks when he’s close enough. He smells like salt and Ray absolutely does _not_ watch a droplet of water slide down his neck. He _doesn’t._

 

“Sure.”

 

“You wanna binge watch the rest of _The Wire_?”

 

“Fuck yeah.”

  
Ray gets popcorn all over the couch and Brad jabs him in the rib cage with his foot when he rants at the characters on the screen, but all in all it’s a good evening.


	3. And After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for angst *innocent smile*  
> But after this it's back to your regularly scheduled fluff, promise :)  
> I wanted to get this up before I went to bed, so now it's one in the morning. Anyway, enjoy!

 

The next morning they leave at ten to meet Brad’s parents for lunch.

 

“They know I’m coming, right?” Ray says as he backs out of the driveway. They’re taking Brad’s truck and Brad bullied him into driving although he didn’t put up much resistance.

 

It’s still second nature to follow Brad’s direction while he’s at the wheel with Brad next to him, even though he pretty much knows which way he’s going and he’s been out of the Corps for years.

 

“Yes, Ray. They do.” Brad gives him a look from the passenger seat. He can’t see it, but he can feel it on the side of his face, and he takes a quick peek at Brad under the guise of checking the mirrors. _Of course, idiot_ , it says, and it makes Ray smile _._

 

“I’m just asking. You forgot to tell them you had a baby, who knows what else you forgot to tell them.”

 

“I didn’t forget to tell them.”

 

Ray’s about to say, ‘ _Dude,_ _how hard is it to say ‘I’m a dad now?’’_ but Brad’s tapping his fingers sporadically on the armrest and it makes him pause. It’s not a tic he remembers Brad having. He waits for him to say more but Brad just lets the silence hang between them.

 

It’s only an hour into the drive that Brad elaborates. “They’re going to ask why.”

 

“Yeah.” It’s not his job to sugar coat the truth, and the truth is they _will_ ask, why Brad decided to adopt, why he didn’t want to tell them right away. Brad’s going to have to figure out how much he wants to tell them.

 

He doesn’t glance at Brad when he says, “Are you going to tell them about Christmas? All that shit?”

 

“I should,” he replies, and Ray agrees. It might be hard, but what isn’t?

 

“Well,” Ray says brightly, “that should be fun.”

 

He hears Brad give the slightest, softest laughter, just a few breaths through his nose, and it goes firmly into the _win_ column in his head.

 

Ray flicks on the radio. The tension in the car is more or less gone now, so he can fully appreciate whatever the radio has to offer him. The default station is Brad’s favourite ye olde eighties and they’re playing fucking _Air Supply._

 

“It’s your favourite song.” Ray knows it’s not. “Sing for me!”

 

He doesn’t leave Brad to sing on his own. He’s nice like that. He gets most of the words wrong, but Brad’s smiling and that’s all that matters.

 

***

 

He pulls the car into the half full parking lot of a family diner at twelve thirty, so they’re a bit late. Half an hour, whatever.

 

Brad’s mom stands when the hostess leads them in, but the worried look on her face quickly transforms to shock, then wonder. Brad’s father is choked up.

 

“Will you be needing a high chair?” the hostess asks, awkwardly. Her eyes drift to the baby carrier in Brad’s hands and catch on his prosthetic.

 

“No, we’re good,” Brad says. Elliott’s not old enough to sit up on his own.  “Just an extra chair.”

 

“Happy father’s day, Dad,” Brad says, and his dad pulls him into a hug.

 

“I guess I could say the same to you.” He looks at Elliott with raw emotion in his eyes.

 

“And Mom, we couldn’t do anything for mother’s day. I hope Elliott was worth the wait.”

 

A tear rolls down her cheek and she wipes it away quickly before hugging Brad. “He’s…”

 

Brad nods, like he knows exactly what she’s struggling to say. Ray wonders if he was the same way when Elliott was born. Maybe he cried too.

 

Brad sets the carrier on a seat and carefully lifts Elliott up. He’d fallen asleep some time during the drive and he looks cherubic in Brad’s arms, eyes closed with chubby cheeks around the pacifier in his mouth.

 

Ray watches as they take turns holding Elliott, cooing and fawning over him. They settle into their seats when the waitress comes around asking for their drink orders, and Brad’s parents barely take their eyes off the baby long enough to request water.

 

“And the mother?” Brad’s mom asks when they’re waiting for their food.

 

Brad shakes his head. “He’s adopted.” He covers the top of Elliott’s head with his hand, who’s back in his carrier sitting next to Brad, and brushes a thumb over his forehead. He’s slowly blinking awake from his nap and Brad coaxes the pacifier from his mouth. “It was a closed adoption. Just me and him and Daisy.”

 

If she’s disappointed she doesn’t show it. She smiles serenely, gazing at Elliott with love in her eyes. Maybe she’s accepted things the way they are, the way Brad wants them to be. “How old is he? Eight weeks?”

 

“Nine,” Brad says. “His birthday’s April fourteenth.”

 

Brad’s parents share a look, and Ray knows this is the part where they ask.

 

“When did you decide to adopt?” She says it gently, and Ray’s sure she’s wondering why Brad waited so long to tell them.

 

“Two and a half years ago.”

 

They both look surprised and Ray frowns, swallowing his Coke slowly and putting the cup down.

 

“At Christmas?” he asks. Yeah, Ray suggested it then but until the picture of Elliott he hadn’t known Brad was past the _looking into it_ phase.

 

“Yes. I knew right away I wanted to.”

 

Ray looks at Brad, really _looks_ at him in light of this new information. It makes sense now, adopting Daisy, going to therapy, moving back to California… Everything was preparation for Elliott.

 

“I think we’re missing something,” Brad’s dad says, his eyes shifting from Brad to Ray.

 

“You are,” Brad says. He looks down and takes a breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead.

 

Ray’s jittery, and he wishes he could go outside for a cigarette but he doesn’t even have any on him. He folds his arms and leans on the table, but he can’t stop his fingers from tapping against his skin.

 

It’s just… he was _there_ , he doesn’t want to hear the story, doesn’t want to relive one of the worst days of his life. He’s trapped here, in this moment, at this table, and maybe Brad planned this on purpose, to have Ray around for moral support for this conversation. Maybe he needed it and hadn’t wanted to ask.

 

A foot presses lightly on top of his, stopping his bouncing leg, and guilt washes through Ray instantly. This is about _Brad_ , not him. Brad shouldn’t be comforting him _._

 

“When I lived in Georgia, I was depressed. On Christmas day, two and a half years ago, I was drunk and… I had my revolver out.”

 

Brad’s mom gasps, her hands flying to cover her mouth. His dad has a stony dread on his face.

 

“I don’t remember much. When I woke up there was a hole in the wall and two officers sitting in my kitchen. Apparently I’d been on the phone with Ray when I shot the wall and passed out.” Brad watches them warily, waiting for them to understand. He’s telling only the bare bones of what happened, but his parents are smart and they connect the dots in two seconds.

 

“Oh my _god_ …. Ray thought…”  

 

Ray can’t look at their faces. He stares at the grooves in the oak table, at the scuff marks on the corner. There’s too many memories floating in his head, ghosts interrupting his thoughts.

 

For fifteen agonizing minutes, he had thought Brad was dead. He remembers those minutes like they just happened yesterday, standing in his mother’s living room, the phone glued to his ear, desperate to hear a noise, any noise, and saying Brad’s name over and over and over.

 

 _27:41._ When the timer on his call with Brad had reached twenty seven minutes and forty one seconds, he had disconnected and dialled 911. From the time he heard the shot over the line to the time police in Georgia had informed him Brad was _unharmed oh thank god thank god_ was the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

 

“…and they checked in with me a few times until Ray got there from Missouri. We talked that night.”

 

Three in the morning on Boxing Day, technically, but yeah. Ray had been hyped on caffeine and his nerves shot to hell, but he stayed up with Brad for an hour, an hour where everything was laid out between them. No barriers, no limits, no lies.

 

_A mug of hot chocolate in his hands. The tick tick tick of the plain analog clock on the wall. Honest words after a long, long drive._

 

_“I’m glad you’re here.”_

 

_There’s a hole in the wall of the family room but that can be fixed._

 

_“I’m glad you’re alive.”_

 

“And since then adoption was my plan.”

 

The dull background chatter doesn’t seem to touch their table, and they’re all quiet. The silence is painful, but Ray can’t remedy this, talk his way out of this. His voice is stuck in his throat and even if he didn’t feel paralyzed, he wouldn’t know what to say. It’s a first.

 

The waitress’s voice bursts their bubble of reality, all too chipper, and Ray finally looks up. Her eyes flicker over all their faces, her smile failing.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

Brad’s father blinks and plasters on what’s probably supposed to be a smile but comes out more like a watery grimace. “Everything’s fine. That one’s for Judy.”

 

She hands out the plates, and another server brings two more. “Enjoy your meal,” she says, not quite as perky as she was before.

 

They slowly start to eat. Brad’s parents look like they’re still digesting what Brad told them. Brad looks the same but his shoulders are lower, the tightness gone.

 

“Brad?” Judy says after a few minutes. “Are you… What about now?”

 

Brad doesn’t need to ask what she means. “I’m happy.”

 

“You should’ve told us before. We could’ve helped.”

 

“It’s hard enough telling you now, Dad,” Brad says honestly, the fork and knife stuttering in his hands. He tightens his grip and tries again. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

 

But Ray suspects that’s not the only reason. For a fighter like Brad, finding something he couldn’t seem to fight on his own probably affected him more than the loneliness itself. Until their Christmas conversation he didn’t know any other way.

 

“Parents always worry, honey,” Brad’s mom says, and her eyes drift to Elliott. “I suppose that’s something you’ll learn now too.”

 

Brad’s eyes find Elliott, softening on the baby, before he looks back to his parents. “Yeah.” It’s simple but it does the trick and the atmosphere lifts, the weight of all the words lightening so they can finally breathe.

 

It’s not over. Something like this can’t be talked about once and never again. Brad’s parents must have more questions, more concern to lay over their son and their new grandson, but for now they just eat. It takes a few tries for conversations to rise, starting and stopping like a song on a scratched cd, but they talk.

 

When Brad takes Elliott to the washroom to change his diaper, Judy reaches across the table and takes Ray’s hand. They’ve all finished, now they’re waiting for the bill.

 

“I want to thank you Ray.”

 

“What for?” He knows what for, but he chooses to play obtuse. He really, _really_ doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

 

She gives him a look, and oh so _that’s_ where Brad learned that from. Then her face turns earnest again. “You saved my son’s life.”

 

And no, no that’s too much, _he didn’t_. “He didn’t hurt himself—”

 

She waves her other hand for him to stop. “You did, Ray. Whether you see it or not. He’s lucky to have you by his side, or perhaps I should say at his six.”

 

Ray swallows, his throat thick. What is he supposed to say to that?

 

“We’re still processing, we’ve had quite the shock today.” She laughs weakly, and it’s a sound that makes Ray sad, though he can’t explain why. “But you’ve been there for him when we couldn’t. So thank you.”

 

Brad’s father expresses his agreement and they have their eyes on him like they expect him to say—what? _You’re welcome? No problem?_

 

“I did what anyone would’ve done. I care about him.”

 

They seem to accept that, and Judy squeezes his hand once before letting go.

 

In the truck on the way home, Brad thanks him too. “I know that fucking sucked but I’m glad you were there.”

 

Ray’s in the passenger seat, watching Brad’s profile and the cars disappearing into it on the other side of the median. “Do you feel better? Did it help?”

 

“More than I thought it could.”

 

Ray stays quiet for a moment before he speaks again. The words just won’t leave his skull, banging around like they need to get out. “Your mom told me I saved your life.”

 

Brad flicks on his turn signal and changes lanes. “You did.”

 

He doesn’t know what answer he was expecting, but that’s… shit. _Shit._

 

“Hey, turn on the radio.”

 

The music is an excellent distraction from the direction his thoughts are going, and no doubt Brad knew it would be. He changes the station a few times and settles on a rock station.

 

_Far away,_

_This ship has taken me far away…_

 

Shortly after they get back to Brad’s, Ray is gathering his shit together to head back out on the road.

 

“Oh, here,” he says on the doorstep, and hands Brad the last two gifts. “Happy father’s day.”

 

Brad looks surprised and pleased. “You didn’t—”

 

“Put that the fuck away, Colbert. Of course I did.” He picks up the green handles of his duffel bag. He doesn’t want to leave. “Tell me if you like it.”

 

And just like Friday night, Brad pulls him into a strong hug, and Ray drops his duffel to return the embrace.

 

“Drive safe.”

 

“Always do.”

 

Ray walks into his apartment at 10:17 and flicks a lamp on, and looking around the empty room a hollow feeling makes itself known nestled somewhere in his chest.

 

His phone buzzes, and he sees a string of texts from Brad.

 

_10:05 — Home ok?_

 

_10:09 — You know me so well._

 

_10:17 — Darth Vader and son? Cute._

 

He likes his gifts then.

 

Ray smiles and the hollow feeling dissipates.

 

_10:18 — home :) time for zzz’s, goodnight_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those two lines of song lyrics are from Muse's Starlight  
> This chapter was meant to tug at your heartstrings, let me know if I was successful!


	4. Just a Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... yeah, this was supposed to be fluffier, but it's certainly not as angsty as the last chapter. I think. HANG TIGHT, we're almost there!  
> Also, I just noticed an error in the previous chapter today, so please, if you see typos or anything, feel free to let me know, I'd appreciate it.  
> There will likely be an epilogue, so this will probably end at six chapters, not five.  
> Chapter title again from Fleetwood Mac's Gypsy  
> Enjoy!

 

_Bradley_

 

_Happy AMERICA day I did jack shit for july fourth how about you? The most american thing I did was drink shit beer at a friend’s house. How’s Elliott celebrating his first july fourth? Covered in red white and blue and waving a flag around?_

 

_Oh and I meant to ask did you tell LT and Rudy about Elliott? I was talking to Fick a few days ago and I wasn’t sure so I didn’t say anything._

 

_Anyway I’ve got SONGS TO PLAY AND OR SING TO ELLIOTT when you’ve graduated from twinkle twinkle little star and old mcdonald :)_

 

_here comes the sun - beatles_

_you’ll be in my heart - phil collins (and I know you hate disney but fuck off Brad they have some great songs)_

_sweet child o’ mine - guns n roses (u should probably sing this one)_

_beautiful boy - john lennon_

_sweet baby james - james taylor_

_rodeo/hoedown - aaron copland (the song of my people haha, random but he might like it)_

_downstream - supertramp_

_hushabye mountain - dick van dyke (from chitty chitty bang bang)_

_follow you follow me - genesis_

_stand by me - ben e king_

 

_Ok you might not like them all but they’re for the baby not for you keep that in mind. Play them all to him and tell me if he likes them pretty pretty please I’ll be waiting_

 

_Ray_

 

A few days later he gets a response from Brad while he’s at a bar with a few colleagues after work.

 

_That James Taylor borders country music, Ray. Not amused._

 

_Also I fucking hate you._

 

_Elliott loves that fucking rodeo song. Jesus Christ. He lights up when I put it on._

 

Ray grins at the texts and an extra bit of stress he didn't know he had lifts off his shoulders.

 

_To Brad:_

 

_i’d love to see that. what about the others?_

 

“Raaay stop ignoring us! Who are you talking to anyway? Your girlfriend?”

 

“No, my old team leader from the marines.” Ray puts his cell phone in his pocket, but when it buzzes he can’t resist taking it out again.

 

_From Brad:_

 

_I’ll show you the video I took next time you’re here. Van Dyke puts him right to sleep, which is nice._

 

_He likes most of them._

 

_To Brad:_

 

_awesome!_

 

_From Brad:_

 

_And no, LT and Rudy don't know yet._

 

_Not because I didn't want to tell them, just because Elliott's got enough toys._

 

Brad's ridiculous sometimes.

 

_To Brad:_

 

_and u couldn't just tell them not to bring presents?_

 

_From Brad:_

 

_I thought the chances of them ignoring such instructions were too high._

 

Brad’s really fucking ridiculous sometimes.

 

***

 

_From Brad:_

 

_Are you up?_

 

The ping of the phone jerks Ray out of his half-asleep state and he grabs it off the coffee table, smiling tiredly when he sees who it is. It’s almost two in the morning and he really should go to bed but he still responds _yes._

 

The first few beats of _Ice Ice Baby_ play from the phone’s speaker, and he presses answer and puts the phone to his ear.

 

“Dude, we just talked like a few hours ago? Not that I’m not perfectly happy to entertain you and all. What’s up?” Ray yawns and turns off the tv. The dvd screen saver is getting on his nerves.

 

“Did I wake you up?” Brad sounds wide awake, almost hyper alert.

 

“Not really, why?”

 

“Nothing.” Brad pauses. “I don’t know.”

 

“Is Elliott asleep?” Brad sounded off earlier and he sounds even less like himself now. Anxious about something. It’s obvious there’s something he’s not saying so the best Ray can do right now is to distract him.

 

“Yeah, he’s all tuckered out from play time. He’s starting to hold his head up. A few minutes here and there.”

 

“That’s good. What’s his favourite toy?”

 

Talking about Elliott seems to help Brad relax and what feels like only moments later Ray’s pausing in the middle of his sentence to hear Brad’s soft snoring over the line. He can’t believe it.

 

“Falling asleep in the middle of a conversation?” he whispers into the phone. “Fucking rude, Colbert.”

 

Ray listens to Brad’s breaths for a moment before hanging up and finally, _finally_ climbing into bed.

 

***

 

_To Brad:_

 

_hey I had to stay late at work so I'll come down tomorrow_

 

_just about to head home now_

 

_From Brad:_

 

_:( Alright._

 

Ray blinks once, twice, rubs his eyes. He’s completely drained, but he doesn’t think he’s gotten to the point of hallucinating yet. He even checks to make sure he texted the right person, and yup, he texted Brad.

 

But Brad _never_ sends faces.

 

He types out a text slowly, wondering if he’s somehow landed in the twilight zone.

 

_who are u and what the fuck have u done with Brad Colbert_

 

_From Brad:_

 

_What?_

 

_To Brad:_

 

_dude u never use smiley faces_

 

_From Brad:_

 

_Still don't, that was a sad face._

 

Ray rolls his eyes but there’s a grin sneaking onto his face that he can’t fight.

 

_To Brad:_

 

_u fucking know what I mean_

 

_k im driving now_

 

Ray puts his cell on silent and pulls out of the parking lot, the punctuation face on the back of his mind for the whole twenty minute drive home. When he gets home he checks his texts again.

 

_From Brad:_

 

_Ok._

 

_It's to emphasize my disappointment._

 

Ray types out a reply, erases  it, types another one, erases again.

 

_u rly wanted to see me_

 

He presses send. Maybe that's a stupid response but he can't think of what else to say.

 

_From Brad:_

 

_Is that a question? If so, then yes._

 

_Use proper fucking punctuation, Ray._

 

_I wanted to tell you something._

 

Ray’s heart starts beating faster and he slides down, sitting at the base of the front door. That could mean a lot of things. Fuck, he knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up, and yet…

 

_To Brad:_

 

_???¿¿ ??¿¿¿???¿¿¿???_

 

Ray presses a fist to his mouth, biting at his knuckles.

 

_From Brad:_

 

_Are you confused in spanish?_

 

_It can wait until tomorrow._

 

Whatever it is, it’s not something he’s eager tell Ray over text.

 

Ray’s heart calms somewhat but his thoughts are still running wild. A giddiness soars through him and he feels light enough to float away.

 

_To Brad:_

 

_k i gotta eat see u tom!_

 

_From Brad:_

 

_What time?_

 

_To Brad:_

 

_probs about 3_

 

_From Brad:_

 

_Okay. See you tomorrow._

 

***

 

“Rudy!”

 

“Good to see you, brother,” Rudy says, and claps him on the shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

 

“LT here?” He toes off his shoes and drops his bag by the steps.

 

“In the family room.”

 

The place is a lot neater than when Ray was last here. There’s less shoes piled by the door and no clutter in the kitchen. The book shelves are organized, floors swept and the baby toys as tidy as possible.

 

He doesn’t think it’s ever been this clean when he’s been over, and it reminds him of Brad’s place in Georgia. His house there had been just that: a house, not a home. It had been spotless not because Brad cleaned excessively, but because he’d had very little in the house. Ray remembers stark cream walls, tired second hand furniture and worn carpet.

 

Here there’s a distinct sense of _home._

 

On the family room floor Nate’s keeping an eye on Elliott. The baby’s bobbing away in his bouncer, clutching a rattle in one hand.

 

“Hey LT,” Ray says as he rummages through Brad’s cupboards for coffee.

 

“How are you, Ray?”

 

“Good. Tired, but good.” While the coffee brews he steps out onto the porch, sliding the glass door shut behind him.

 

Brad glances up then back down to the barbecue. “You’re late.”

 

“Yeah. Sorry.” It had been a combination of nerves, sleeping in and an accident on the highway that delayed his arrival.

 

Brad’s eyebrows pull together, a dent forming between them. “That’s all you have to say?” His words are clipped, shoulders tense. He’s pissed.

 

“I did text you,” Ray says helplessly. He knows how to deal with Brad when he’s annoyed or down, but when he’s genuinely angry at something—at Ray—it’s a whole different story.

 

“Three hours ago.” Brad gives him a stern look.

 

“… I was driving. That was the last time I stopped.”

 

Brad sighs and closes the barbecue lid. He looks at Ray and he must see the exhaustion or the apology or _something_ on Ray’s face because he opens his arms wide, and Ray figures that’s as good a sign of forgiveness as any.

 

He steps forward and holds tight to Brad, and Brad’s arms fold around him. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Because he knows that’s what this is all about. Brad was worried and Ray can’t blame him for that, not when he’s been in the same position.

 

Brad steps back and it feels like a piece of Ray goes with him. “Can you get some plates and stuff out? And there’s some potato salad in the fridge, take that out. Please.”

 

“Sure.”

 

***

 

After dinner there’s drinks and poker, and then Rudy’s on his way and it’s just the three of them at the table, and Elliott being rocked to sleep in his automatic swing. Ray’s happy he got to see them both, really, but he starts to feel antsy around ten and Nate’s still here.

 

Nate checks his watch and his eyes flicker to Ray like he knows exactly what Ray’s thinking. Maybe he does. Is it obvious?

 

“Time to hit the road,” Nate says, standing from his seat and stretching. “We should do this more often.”

 

“I agree, sir,” Brad says, and there’s that little twitch at Nate’s mouth whenever someone calls him _sir_ nowadays, but he’s learned that telling them to stop is next to useless.

 

Brad walks him out to the front door and Ray can hear their low tones as he gathers up the cards.

 

“Ray,” Brad says, “get your ass out there. LT wants to say bye.”

 

Ray goes out to the front door and Brad doesn’t follow him, just goes to check on Elliott.

 

“I told him I needed to speak with you alone,” Nate says.

 

“About what, sir?”

 

“About Brad. Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

 

Ray looks down, his cheeks hot, and even though Nate has lowered his voice he still glances back down the hallway. “I—fuck. Am I that obvious?”

 

“No, but I sure as hell wasn’t a recon marine for nothing.”

 

Ray doesn’t say anything.

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

Ray looks up at that. “Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of dumbass question is that?” Even after all these years, he would still put his life in Nate’s hands.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Nate pauses for a moment, glances down the hallway just like Ray had. When he speaks again, his voice is even lower. “So trust me when I say that it’ll be okay. _Tell him_.”

 

Ray takes a breath, nods. “Yeah.”

 

“Alright?”

 

“I will. Thank you, sir.”

 

Nate pulls him into a hug and not that Ray’s comparing or anything but Brad’s hugs are way better. Even so, it’s nice. This will be the last time they see each other for a while.

 

“Good. Let me know how it goes.”

 

“I will,” Ray says again. He locks the door after Nate leaves with one last call of goodbye, and then he’s alone in the house with Brad.

 

Brad’s standing in the family room, humming to Elliott against his chest.

 

Ray leans against the wall, watching, feeling like a hydraulic press is pushing down on his sternum. He wants to walk the few steps between them, wrap his arms around Brad, have Elliott squished between them. The longing seems to weigh more and more each time he sees Brad.  

 

“What did you do with the pictures?” Ray asks, quietly, not wanting to intrude on their little moment. ”The ones that were on the fridge.”

 

“They're in an album.” Brad studies him with sharp eyes, and what Ray wouldn't give to know what he's thinking is a very short list. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah.” No. “So, what were you going to tell me last night?” he asks to deflect the conversation away, and prays desperately that every single ounce of hope coming alive within him isn't showing on his face.

 

“I'm going to put Elliott to bed first. It's way past your bedtime, little dude,” he says to the baby, and brushes his lips over ginger hair. “Give me a few minutes and then it's time to celebrate.”

 

… Celebrate?

 

“Celebrate what?” Ray asks, but Brad is already on his way upstairs.

 

 _Fuck._ He had his hopes too high and now they’re in flames around him.

 

When Brad comes back, he goes straight to the fridge and pulls out a large box. He sets it on the counter and looks at Ray expectantly, one hand ready to throw the lid open. “Come here.”

 

Ray leans on the opposite side of the counter. “I was wondering what this was for.” He saw it in the fridge when he was setting the table earlier. Brad had a cheesecake out for dessert, not that anyone wanted any after their huge dinner.

 

“I bought this yesterday.” Brad flips the top open with a dramatic flourish and Ray gasps, and the way Brad grins reminds him of OIF a lifetime ago, of ravioli stashed away in the humvee, of Reporter trying to cop a _Jugs_ magazine from Brad’s hands. 

 

It’s a cookies and cream cake, with the fucking oreos and everything. It’s Ray’s favourite.

 

“ _Dude._ You’re the fucking best. But why are we having cake?” Ray watches Brad grab two small plates, two forks and a knife.

 

“Guess.”

 

“You’re pregnant,” Ray says without missing a beat.

 

“I don’t know what you were taught in your backwoods trailer park sex ed classes growing up, but if you think men can get pregnant the American education system is truly fucked.”

 

Ray just laughs. And by now it’s clear he’s not going to hear what he was hoping for but fuck if being with Brad doesn’t still make him happy.

 

“How much do you want?” Brad’s scoring the icing so Ray reaches across, takes Brad’s hand and moves the knife to score where he wants.

 

“Right there. I want that oreo.”

 

Brad cuts out his slice and another one about the same size. “Guess again.”

 

“Hm. You got promoted?”

 

“I wish,” Brad grumbles, but Ray knows he loves working at the surf shop even if he’s only a supervisor.

 

“A new job?”

 

“No.”

 

“I give up.”

 

Brad hands him a plate of cake and says, “I’m Prozac free.”

 

Ray’s mouth falls open. That’s… wow. “Seriously? No more happy pills?”

 

Brad shakes his head, smiling like he can’t quite believe it. “No more happy pills.”

 

“That’s _great_ , Brad.” Ray’s a little choked up, but otherwise functioning normally. It’s just. He’s so proud. Brad has come _so far._ “When did you stop taking them?”

 

Brad swallows a bite of cake. “Three weeks ago.”

 

Ray narrows his eyes. “Am I going to have to add this to the list of things you should’ve told me sooner?” There’s two things on this list: Brad’s depression and Elliott.

 

“No. Sometimes there’s symptoms coming off them so I wanted to wait until I was sure I didn’t have to start again. I was light-headed and couldn’t sleep mostly, nothing too bad.”

 

“Is that what that phone call was all about? A few weeks ago at two in the morning?"

 

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

 

“It’s okay.” When Brad started the antidepressants he was all over the place and Ray helped him through it then. Phone calls in the early morning hours were—and still are—no big deal.

 

They stand at the counter, eating their cake, and Ray doesn’t even think once to sit down, slow down, talk some more. He saves the oreo for last like he always does.

 

“Cheers,” he says, bumping his oreo into Brad’s, and Brad makes a face like it’s killing him not to call Ray an idiot. Whatever. Brad loves him.

 

_Does he?_

 

“Time to hit the sack,” Ray says after finishing his cookie, but he doesn’t move, like he’s waiting for something. _Waiting for what?_

 

There’s too many fucking questions in his head. And Nate’s words. He knows, he _knows_ just because Brad hasn’t said anything doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the same. It doesn’t mean he can’t tell Brad, right here, right now.

 

_Tell him._

 

Brad nods. “Yeah, go on, I got the dishes. Goodnight.”

 

“‘Night.”

 

***

 

Ray doesn’t tell him. He’s going back to his place on Sunday and _he still hasn’t told Brad_ , and the regret builds until five hours in he’s parked in an empty gas station, clutching onto the steering wheel like it’s a lifeline. His forehead rests on the center and he’s breathing, just breathing, trying to pull himself together.

 

Fuck, LT’s going to be so disappointed.  

 

He should turn around. If he turns around now he’ll get back to Brad’s at one in the morning, but he doesn’t know if he can survive five more hours on the road. His apartment is starting to feel less and less like a home the more he returns to it, but in the end he drives those last two hours back into Arizona.

 

Much as he wants it to be Brad's home isn't his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was swearing to myself while I was writing this—why can't these losers just kiss already?!?? FUk! but I had a plan and I'm sticking to it dammit.  
> Will the next chapter be up tonight? That's probably too ambitious, but I did want to post them together so the suspense doesn't actually kill anyone. idk. it'll be up very soon after this. (the next chapter will be worth the pain, I promise)  
> Let me know what you think!


	5. Can't Fight This Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THIS HAS TAKeN So LONG and I know a week or so isn't all that long but i feel like an unreliable author and i have no excuses  
> i hope you enjoy this and I hope it was worth the wait! *crosses fingers*

 

 

It hasn’t even been a full twenty four hours since Ray got home yesterday but he knows he can’t wait any longer.

 

_To: b.colbert@gmail.com_

 

This is it. The _I’m in love with you_ playlist. It’s stupid but if this is what it takes to tell Brad how he feels then fuck it. Ray pushes away his nerves and types out the name and artist of one song, the only song that’s going on the list, but he knows that’s not enough and continues typing a few lines down.

 

_I_

 

_I’_

 

_I’m_

 

_I'm i_

 

_I'm in_

 

_I'm in l_

 

_I'm in_

 

_I'm i_

 

_I'm_

 

_I’_

 

_I l_

 

_I lo_

 

Why can't he find the fucking words?

 

No, he has them, but why do they sound so wrong, so simple? Why can't he write them? Why can’t he _say_ them?

 

_T_

 

_Th_

 

_This_

 

_This is_

 

_This is how I_

 

_This is how I feel about you._

 

Ray clicks send and slams the laptop closed with wide eyes.

 

“Fuck,” he whispers into the empty apartment. He just can’t fucking win; the regret’s as whole and consuming as it was yesterday after he _didn’t_ tell Brad.

 

But it’s done now. All he can do is wait.

 

When the dark seeps into his apartment, filling the corners and flooding in until he’s drenched, his cell rings, a lighthouse in the ocean of night. It washes the stucco ceiling, echoing _Ice Ice Baby_ around the room.

 

So it’s definitely Brad.

 

Ray picks up just before the ringtone ends, somewhere in the middle of the first verse. “Hey, homes.” His voice comes out a lot less casual than he intended.

 

“I haven’t heard that song in a while.”

 

“Mm,” Ray hums, not sure what to say. He’s waiting for the axe to fall.

 

“Ray, did you just profess your love to me via REO Speedwagon?”

 

There it is. He thinks about saying _no_ but that would be pretty fucking stupid at this point.

 

“Um… yes,” he says, and his pulse speeds up. His stomach feels bottomless. “Lame, I know. I wanted to tell you on the weekend and LT told me to but I was a pussy and I wanted to turn around when I was driving but I couldn’t and I just—” Ray pauses, takes a breath. “I want to be part of your family. I want—yeah. I want you.”

 

Brad’s quiet and Ray’s heart does jump rope in his chest, his limbs frozen with a restless energy trapped beneath the surface. The moment hangs in the balance, feeling stretched and thinned into hours, and it doesn’t help that he’s not sure of the time. It could be eleven; it could be three in the morning, and he’s not going to pull the phone away from his ear to check.

 

Brad makes a soft noise, like a relieved breath of laughter. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

This might be the best moment of Ray’s life.   “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

A smile spreads across Ray’s face and he’s dissolving into the couch, absolutely boneless with relief. He feels like he took a dive off a cliff and landed on pillows. “Oh thank Jesus fucking Christ in a tractor trailer.”

 

Brad laughs, loud and strong, and Ray’s not new to making him laugh but right now it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

 

There’s still a smile in Brad’s voice when he says, “Do you realize we’re basically in a long distance relationship?”

 

“… What?” But even as he questions it, Ray knows he’s right.

 

“Think about it. We talk all the time. We watch TV together from two different states. We skype. You visit me, I visit you. For fuck’s sake, Ray, you make me playlists.”

 

“We started doing all those things… I was trying to keep you company. So you…” _felt less alone._ Ray’s brain is not processing this fast enough.

 

“I think it turned into something else for both of us.” Brad takes a breath, lets it out, and a creak sounds like he’s shifting on his mattress. “I wanted to kiss you yesterday.”

 

Ray’s breath hitches and his heart stutters. It’s such a simple declaration but the words make his imagination run wild, wondering what it would be like to kiss Brad, to touch him. The same longing he always feels for Brad hits him tenfold. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. And Saturday night when you had cake all over your fucking face.”

 

“You totally should have. You would have received a very enthusiastic response.” Really it’s just nice to hear Brad is feeling the same things he is.

 

“I don’t know why I didn’t.”

 

Ray can understand that. “Seems like there’s a lot of that going around.”

 

“Well, not anymore.”

 

“Yeah.” Now they know.

 

“Is it safe to assume you’ll be here on Friday?”

 

“Do you even need to ask? I’d be there tomorrow if I didn’t have to fucking work.” He gasps as a beautiful idea comes to him.

 

“Don’t call in sick,” Brad says, shutting the thought down instantly, and how the fuck did he know?

 

“You’re no fun.”

 

“Ray.”

 

“I’ll be there on Friday night,” he says, softer. It’s going to be hell waiting until then but in the grand scheme of things one week of waiting isn’t all that much. Not after months of waiting, of years, keeping quiet about how he felt all this time.

 

“I’ll see if my parents can take Elliott on Saturday. Maybe Daisy too.”

 

“Okay.” Ray doesn’t want the call to end. He wants to stretch it out, listen to Brad’s voice until dawn, yawning through words as they talk about anything and everything on their minds. But it ends, bittersweet like every time he leaves Brad.

 

Ray clutches his cell phone to his chest when the call is over. Friday can’t come soon enough.

 

***

 

The seconds are minutes, the minutes are hours, and each hour lasts a fucking eternity. Every waking moment Ray spends wishing he was in California with Brad. He watches the computer clock switch from one number to the next when he’s at work. He listens to the analog clock tick when he’s at home. It’s agony.

 

Finally though, finally, _finally_ , he arrives at Brad’s after midnight on Friday. There’s electricity winding through his veins as he goes up the front steps but it has nothing to do with the lingering effects of his last Red Bull.

 

Ray sets his stuff on the porch and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t even have time to fidget nervously before the door opens and he’s in Brad’s arms. It’s the best place to be. Brad is solid and warm and smells fantastic and it’s entirely possible that Ray is melting into him.

 

“I’m going to crash in, like, twenty minutes,” Ray says in lieu of a hello and stretches up to press his lips to Brad’s. It’s a little uncoordinated on his part but Brad kisses expertly, with just enough pressure to send rivers of warmth down his spine. The seven hour drive was worth it for this moment alone.

 

“Bring your shit in,” Brad says when he pulls back. There’s a tiny smile on his face and his eyes shine happily, even in the low light.

 

Once they’re inside, Ray holds out a box to Brad. “I was wisely informed by someone that roses will always get you laid. Of course, he thought I was coming out to California to woo a woman, but I thought fuck it, and I took his advice anyway.”

 

Brad looks inside the box and raises an eyebrow at Ray. “Did you get high and mistake this for a bouquet? Also that’s… fucking gay, even if it is just because you want to get laid.”

 

“What, you can handle kissing a dude but you can’t handle the thought of someone bringing you flowers?” Ray grins, shaking his head. He’s never seen Brad blush before and he’s thoroughly enjoying it. The lights are low but he’s about eighty percent positive Brad’s cheeks are flushed. It’s awesome. _Note to self: bringing the Iceman flowers will make him blush._ “Didn’t think roses would survive the drive. And succulents are more practical. It’s not going to die after five days and your house needs plants.”

 

“My house is fine.”

 

He’ll love it soon enough.

 

Brad puts the potted echeveria in the kitchen and heads upstairs, Ray following close behind with his duffel. His feet automatically shuffle to the door of the guest bedroom, but a strong arm snags him around the waist and pulls him back gently.

 

“The fuck do you think you’re going?” Brad asks, his tone soft despite his choice of words.

 

Ray yawns. He can almost feel the energy draining from his body. “To bed?”

 

“Sleep in here. With me.”

 

Ray blinks tiredly. “Holy shit. The not-roses totally worked. But I’m too tired for hanky panky, sorry to disappoint, babe.”

 

Brad swats him on the ass, for the comment or the pet name Ray's not sure, but it makes him smile either way. He likes that everything is sort of the same, just _more._ They’re not going to have an awkward dating phase before becoming comfortable with each other. They don’t need to. They know each other in and out.

 

“Try again,” he says, and drags Ray into his room. He flicks on a lamp and for the first time Ray’s seeing his bedroom, and it feels like an intimate privilege. It’s spacious and tidy with an en suite bathroom and closet on one side. Another wall is mostly window looking out onto the beach, and Ray imagines how nice it would be to wake up to a view like this.

 

“Ray.”

 

He looks away from the window to see Brad tugging off his shirt. “Bed. Right.” He quickly strips, brushes his teeth and climbs into bed with Brad. Brad flicks off the light and they're plunged into darkness with faint moonlight glowing into the room. Ray drifts off almost as soon as he gets comfortable, and there’s a moment of nothing but darkness before Brad shifts, pressing closer, warmth against his back and sneaking over his waist.

 

The last thing Ray feels before falling asleep completely is the lightest brush of lips on his shoulder.

 

***

 

“My mom once told me that Christmas was a second chance to tell you how I feel. She’s spiritual. Sort of. She said, ‘honey, you drove half a day to make sure someone was okay. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.’”

 

There are questions written all over Brad’s face but he doesn’t ask any of them.

 

Ray looks back to the ocean, to the water rushing past his feet, cool and glinting with the late morning sun. Brad’s parents came by at ten to pick up Elliott and Daisy to take them back to Bakersfield for the day. It’s hard to spoil a four month old and a dog in one day but Brad had been convinced they would.

 

“She was right. It took me a while to crawl out of my denial, but you know.” Ray shrugs. “We’re here now.”

 

“My mom thought we were together,” Brad offers, and Ray’s brow furrows. 

 

“Really? When was that?”

 

“Long time ago. Five years? Six maybe.”

 

“Why are moms always right about this shit? Maybe it’s a super power they just get when they become moms. The power to predict their children’s love lives. I wouldn’t be surprised, Mom was right about my sister. And my cousin actually.”

 

“Is that the same story?”

 

Ray shoves him roughly with his shoulder and Brad laughs, squinting towards the horizon. Ray lifts his feet from the water and rubs the wet sand stuck on them all over Brad’s legs but Brad doesn’t complain. It’s nice, just sitting here next to Brad.

 

“We’re so fucking stupid,” Ray says. For all their training in observation it took them so long to get to this point. Or maybe it wasn’t not knowing. Maybe it was just fear. Fear of how things could change.

 

“Speak for yourself.”

 

But Brad leans over and kisses him, so Ray’s probably not the only one wishing they’d been doing this sooner. Once Brad moves to his neck, Ray knows he’s done for.

 

“You wanna go inside?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

***

 

Ray never wants to leave, and he knows driving away in an hour will be one of the hardest things he’s ever done.  He belongs here, with Brad, and packing his bag is a stab to the heart. The weekend was a dream, but the fangs of reality have bit him in the ass. He has to go back to work tomorrow. He has to go back to his apartment, sleep alone tonight and go back to work tomorrow like everything is the same.

 

Ray flops backwards on the unmade bed, sheets tangled from their taking advantage of Elliott’s nap earlier. Brad’s parents brought him back around eleven and they’ve spent most of Sunday playing with him and Daisy, Ray feeling like he was almost _almost_ part of the family.

 

“Why is this so hard?”

 

Brad settles Elliott onto Ray’s chest. He can hold his head and sit up, although sometimes he still flops over. It's kind of adorable.

 

Ray slides his hands beneath Elliott’s arms to support him, thumbs rubbing at the baby’s shoulders absentmindedly. “I don’t want to leave.”

 

Brad stretches out next to him then rolls on his side to face Ray. “You’ll be back next weekend.” His hand brushes over Elliott’s back and Ray's fingertips.

 

“Not my point, dude. I don’t want to have to come back, I want to stay here.” A shred of doubt invades his thoughts, but it's dumb… “You want me to stay, right?” He still voices his thoughts. Brad gives him one of those looks, which is reassuring.

 

“What do I need to do, spell it out in a crop field? I would because I’m so in love with you that it’s physically repulsive but it shouldn’t be necessary.” The next time he speaks his voice is softer. “Let’s see how this goes.”

 

Ray nods. That’s the most he can ask for: a chance. Brad’s been through so much that Ray knows this is the only one he’ll get, and he’s not going to fuck it up. Brad could’ve said _forget it, not worth the trouble_ , but he’s giving Ray a chance.

 

“Okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaayy happy ending! the chapter title is the song referenced  
> THERE WILL BE A SUPER FLUFFY EPILOGUE (with lots more elliott)  
> As always, let me know what you think!


	6. Epilogue: Next June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are epilogues supposed to be this long?? who knows? not me! it's like a whole chapter but I'm still calling it an epilogue bc it takes place after a significant chunk of time  
> seriously if this doesn't give u feels idk what would  
> Enjoy 2300 words of fluff, folks!

 

 

Ray can hear Elliott's screeching before Brad even opens the door.

 

“I don't think he knows what's happening but he knows something's happening so he's excited,” Brad says, amusement on his face as he steps back to let Ray in.

 

“Have you even met him? He's always excited.”

 

“Yeah, he's a happy kid.” Brad’s smile softens into a fond quirk of lips. “Elliott,” he calls, and the screeching stops. “Come here, bud.”

 

Elliott peers around the living room wall and his features light up when he sees them. He squeals and wobbles his way towards them as fast as his little legs can go. He's only been walking for about a month now and Ray was lucky enough to witness his first steps.

 

When he's close Ray lifts him up into a hug and kisses his forehead. “Hi buddy. Miss me?”

 

“Awoe-ha!” Elliott says. He reaches out and puts his hands on Ray's cheeks.

 

“Aloha to you too. Guess what we're doing today?”

 

“Ba?” He has a few words down pat but anything outside of _hi, aloha, Dada, play,_ and _up_ are a mystery to the baby. He babbles endlessly and laughs and shrieks, always filling the house with lively noise.

 

“It’s move in day.”

 

It’s the day Ray’s been anticipating for months since Brad had suggested it, oh so casually as if he was afraid Ray would say no. Ray hadn’t wanted to ask, hadn’t wanted to pressure Brad in case he wasn’t ready, but Brad had admitted he wanted for Ray to move in more than anything.

 

Ray feels Brad move closer and a warm hand press at his back. “You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me, kid.”

 

Elliott seems to understand. He makes a happy high-pitched noise and tugs at Ray’s ears.

 

“I think he’s okay with that,” Brad says. He circles both of them in his arms, a happy little family.

 

“Okay so—mmph!”

 

Brad’s kissing him and as awesome as it is they have work to do. They can’t afford distractions but Ray can’t pull away and the kiss only ends when they have to breathe.

 

“Mwah mwah,” Elliott says.

 

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Ray says, and Brad smirks, “I got the U-Haul outside so let’s get this show on the road. Or, off the road. Into the house.”

 

Brad nods and pulls back. “I’m just going to take off my hand first.”

 

Ray laughs. “What? Oh, right.”

 

“Don’t want to put too much weight on it. I’ll be right back.”

 

Ray squishes down the urge to say _it’s fine, I can bring my stuff in_ since he learned eons ago not to assume Brad wouldn’t be able to do some things without his hand, or to offer to do things for him. It took a while to get used to the sight of his prosthetic too, and to come to terms with the odd sort of guilt he associated with it. Brad’s first deployment after Ray left the Corps was when he lost his left hand and for a long time his head was filled with _maybe’s_. Maybe if he’d been with Brad, watching out for him… But what happened had happened, and he’s accepted that.

 

Brad comes back downstairs prosthetic free. “Alright, let’s get you moved in.”

 

Between the two of them it takes a few hours to get everything in the house. Ray left all his furniture with the apartment so he just has clothes, computer parts, books, music and movies, cookware and dishes, two guitars and an amp, and lots of other random shit. Elliott is happy to continue playing while they work and Daisy sits with him like a mama bear watching her cub.

 

“I have to make one more trip back to Phoenix to get my car but I have until Friday to pick it up. Other than that everything’s good.” Ray’s lying on the floor amidst Elliott’s toys, trying to recover from the back breaking work in June heat.

 

He feels like he’s finally home. He still has to unpack everything but the important part is it’s all here. Everything and everyone he needs is right here.

 

Brad sits next to him and offers him a glass of cold water. “I can drive you there. Anytime this week.”

 

“That would be great.” Ray sits up, drinks the water in one go and lies on the carpet again, closing his eyes. “We can drive over, get a hotel for the night then come back the next day. On Tuesday?”

 

“Sounds like a plan.” Brad takes his hand and tangles their fingers together. “When do you start your job in Santa Barbara?”

 

“Next next Monday. Yeah, you're stuck with me for ten more days.”

 

“How am I going to survive?”

 

Ray knows he's not serious but Brad brushes a kiss against his knuckles to reassure him anyway. Then lets go of his hand.

 

“Hey.”

 

“My hand has other priorities.”

 

“Like what?”

 

A wooden block hits Ray in the face, and he opens his eyes. There’s a stack of them to his right and a stack to his left, blocking his view. Brad picks up the block and adds it to what Ray assumes is a wall growing around his head.

 

“Elliott dropped one.”

 

“Oh sure, blame it on the baby,” he teases. “What is this, a shrine to the great Ray Ray?”

 

“Whatever you want to think. Don't move.”

 

Brad helps Elliott build around Ray’s head and when it’s almost as tall as Elliott the blocks topple down onto Ray’s face.

 

“Ow.”

 

Elliott laughs, delighted.

 

Brad hums, deep in thought. “It was structurally unsound, buddy. Let’s try again.”

 

***

 

“Then the sloth yawned and said, ‘That’s just how I am. I like to do things slowly, slowly, slowly.’”

 

Elliott’s eyes are shut, his chest rising and falling with each breath underneath Brad's hand. He’s sound asleep on the bed next to Ray with one hand clutching onto Brad’s thumb.

 

Ray closes the book gently and sets it on the night table. The clock says it’s only nine but he’s already feeling the day catch up with him. After playtime and supper he and Brad gave Elliott a bath, helped him brush his eight teeth and put him in a clean onesie all ready for bed. They took turns reading each page and by the middle of _Slowly Slowly Slowly Said the Sloth_ he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

 

“He’s getting so big,” Brad murmurs, taking in Elliott with fond eyes. “When he was a week old I called him my little bean. He was a tiny thing.”

 

A small smile tugs at Ray’s lips and he shuffles down so his head is next to Elliott’s on the pillow, Brad on the opposite side. “Were you there when he was born?”

 

“I got a call when Lisa went into labour but she wanted me to wait outside. Then the nurse called me in, put him in my arms and asked for a name.”

 

“What did you think when you saw him?”

 

“Well he wasn’t pretty. Anyone who tells you newborns are cute is a liar. He was red and wrinkly and screaming his heart out, but he was still… I still thought he was beautiful because he was my son, even if he doesn’t have my genes. I don’t care about that.”

 

Brad takes his eyes off Elliott and looks at Ray, grinning. “I know, I’m a sap.

 

“Just a bit.”

 

“Anyway, it’s time for bed, bud.” He gently pulls his thumb out of Elliott’s grasp and lifts him up. “Come on.”

 

In the nursery they both give Elliott a kiss on the cheek before Brad sets him into his cradle.

 

“We’ll have to take him to the store for a toddler bed soon. That should be fun.”

 

Ray’s heart warms at the _we._ “Does he still hate shopping?”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

In Brad’s bedroom— _their_ bedroom, it’s going to take a few days to get used to that—Ray kicks some bags of clothes aside as he makes his way back to the bed and flops across it.

 

“I can’t believe you only allotted me three drawers.”

 

Brad lays next to him, stretching his arms above his head. “There’s shelves in the closet, relax.”

 

“I’m a drawer kind of guy though.”

 

“Well it’s not my fault you have so much shit.”

 

Ray slaps him on the chest for that. “I sold half of my worldly possessions for you, including my TV. My _TV_ , Brad.”

 

Brad rolls onto his side and throws an arm over Ray’s waist, curling in close. “Sounds like love to me.” Brad bites gently at his earlobe, kisses the corner of his jaw, and Ray’s not actually mad—he’s too happy about moving in to be mad—but Brad’s using the method that always makes him want to give up and melt, even when he is pissed. “Let’s argue about drawer space tomorrow.”

 

Ray’s eyelids slip closed and he tilts his head. “Alright. Hey, have I told you that I love you today? I don’t remember if I did.” It’s his goal to make sure Brad knows he’s loved no matter what. Even when they argue, even when they were far apart, he always wanted Brad to know.

 

He could tell Brad a thousand times and it still wouldn’t be enough.

 

“Hm. I don’t think so. If you’d like to I’ll allow it.”

 

Ray forces Brad on his back and lies on top of him, leaning on his elbows with his head above Brad’s. “I think I would like to,” he says, and gives Brad a chaste kiss on the lips before saying, “I love you.”

 

Brad had said the words first at Christmas, three years to the day that he decided to turn his life around. They celebrated both Hanukkah and Christmas together, and it was the first time Brad had put effort into the holidays for years.

 

He said the words just like that, no fuss, no fanfare, sitting beside Ray in front of a tacky three foot fiber optic Christmas tree and watching it change colours in the middle of the night. Ray had gotten the feeling his matter of fact tone belied just how much it affected him to tell someone those words again so Ray said it right back, not missing the smile on Brad’s face when he did. And that was that.

 

“I love you too. Now get naked.” Brad’s hand travels down his back, blazing a trail of warmth towards the waistband of his shorts.

 

“Patience, young padawan. I need to ask you something.”

 

The hand stops and Brad raises his eyebrows. “Right now? Wasn’t it you who said earlier, and I quote, that you ‘can’t wait for some fantastic post move-in sex’? The time has come, Ray.”

 

“This is important,” Ray insists, and he puts on his Serious Face so Brad will believe him. Father’s Day is coming up and it’s been revolving around his brain like a satellite, never fully leaving his thoughts.

 

A frown twitches at Brad’s forehead. “Should I be worried?”

 

“No, it’s not bad. See, I wanted to wait until Elliott started talking to ask because I figured before then it didn’t really matter and he’s talking now, said the D word and everything and with Father’s Day on Sunday—”

 

“Spit it out, Ray.”

 

Ray nods, carding his fingers through Brad’s hair. “I just want to know what he’s going to call me. If I’m going to be daddy’s boyfriend or… just dad.”

 

Brad’s eyes seem to search him for hours. “You want to know if you can call him your son.”

 

“Yes.” His voice softens in earnest. He doesn’t think Brad will say no but there’s always a chance. “I don’t have any legal ties to him, I know, but now I’m moved in and I don’t plan on going anywhere. I love him like crazy, you know that. But it’s your choice.”

 

Brad thinks about his answer for what feels like a long time and Ray waits patiently, still sifting his hands through Brad’s hair. Finally, Brad says, “Do you want to be Dad or Daddy?”

 

Ray can’t help the smile that splits his face. He’s wanted this for so long, this permission, this _yeah, he’s yours too._

 

“None of that Papa shit.”

 

“Doesn’t matter to me,” and Ray pours every bit of love and gratefulness he feels into one strong kiss. “ _Thank you_.”

 

“You know it won’t be all fun and games, right? We’ll have to agree on discipline and stuff. If I make a decision I’ll expect you to back me up, and vice versa.”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

“But we have plenty of time to talk about that later,” Brad says. He flips them so he’s on top and kisses Ray, and Ray doesn’t think anymore after that.

 

***

 

On Father’s Day Brad gives him a stalk of aloe vera in a grey porcelain pot and Ray grins so wide it feels like his face is about to break. He puts it on the windowsill next to the blue echeveria he gave Brad last year.

 

Elliott immediately tries to touch it.

 

“Be careful, buddy, it’s sharp,” Brad says. He takes Elliott’s finger and brings it close to the plant, running it down the soft part of the leaf then touching it lightly to the plant’s teeth so he can see how it feels without hurting himself.

 

Elliott makes a distressed noise and snatches his hand back, looking at Brad with scared eyes.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Brad kisses his finger and he calms down. “That’s how we learn.”

 

Brad lifts Elliott up into his arms. Elliott holds out his finger to Ray expectantly so he rubs it and gives it a second kiss.

 

“Let’s go out for waffles,” Brad says. “There’s a great breakfast place nearby.”

 

“Alright, I’m down.”

 

“Oh and Ray?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Happy Father’s Day.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone who read, left kudos, comments and bookmarked. I am so happy with the response I've gotten on this fic and I thank you all!  
> Until next time! :)


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